not my favorite

something i think you know. if it were tomorrow i wouldnt hesitate id let you go, but its been the same day for some months now and in my heart its starting to snow. 
i cant be part of days spent looking for some needless satisfaction. i cant help but be your hopeless romantic. i cant help that i break down the image you had of yourself. ill build it back up tomorrow, when you close your prairie eyes.
im not going to fix your problems, ive got my own, give me a day and ill flip it to leave you, youll watch as i leap to the moon. i dont know how to help and i dont know how to stop you. 
what will happen if you stop killing yourself?
its not for me, your kisses, my love. i dont think its for me.
i dont know if i want it, i need it, though you should know better than give it to somebody kept beat.
when i come back, tomorrow. ill come back and be a little less hollow. 
still tomorrow. i still wont be.